I’ve wanted to have my own advice column ever since I started giving unsolicited advice to my friends and family. Turns out I’m really great at advising on topics I know very little about. But if my time spent studying positivity and motivation taught me anything, it’s that you don’t let obstacles like being unqualified stand in the way of your innate talents.

Nobody has emailed me any questions so I decided to hijack* a question from Bizarre Word Bazzaar, a blog I stumbled upon whilst searching for advice columns.

Dear Bubba,

I have been married for 8 years and my husband is a wonderful spouse. My complaint may seem shallow but please hear me out.
A couple of years back, he started buying me potted plants instead of cut flowers because “you get more for your money”. He buys me plants three or four times a year. Well, after receiving the third one I asked him to please stop it and to go back to buying the cut flowers. I neither like house plants nor do I want something I have to plant in the yard and water.
Despite this, he continues to buy me potted plants every time. Each time he claims he ‘forgot’.

Signed,
Sick of this!

Dear Sick of this!,

You’re not shallow – your husband is just thoughtless and not-at-all the wonderful guy he likely brainwashed you to believe he is.

Here’s the thing: your husband can’t get a clue because you’ve been married too damn long and he actually doesn’t give a shit about whether you like plants or not. He’s just pleased with himself that he bought you something but I assure you, you have the right to be angry as hell and not take it anymore. Here’s why.

If he told you he hates those shirts with the intimidating little alligator on the front who looks like he’s ready to eat the neighborhood children, you’d probably stop buying those types of shirts for him. Right? It’s called considerfuckingation and your husbands supply is low.

Fret not – I’ve developed a plan for under-appreciated wives just like you. It’s called TAPARS. This stands for The Awesome Passive Aggressive Revenge System. No one should have to live their lives with unwanted plants and it’s time you took a stand against this treachery. Allow me to show you how.

Below are three beginner options using TAPARS, proven to work only some of the time. I’ve provided visuals at no extra charge. I hope they are helpful.

1. Buy him three or four salmon-colored alligator shirts. When he expresses his disdain, say “Oops. I forgot. Like when you forget I hate plants. Guess we both have to deal with it.”

2. Cook him his least favorite meal. When he expresses his disdain, say “Oops, I forgot you hate tofu and kale salad. But the kale was on sale and a total bang for your buck!”

3. Buy him a lifetime supply of 2-blade razors. When he cuts his face, rejoice in his pain and say “Oops, I forgot you hate when your face bleeds from cheap razors. But they were on super sale. Not even a bang for your buck because it feels like I stole them.”

Your husband may ask what’s gotten into you but the answer is simple: EMPOWERMENT, MOTHERFUCKER. Then calmly explain, yet again, your utter distaste for plants and end the talk with “can you hear me now?”

And that, dear Sick of this!, is how you get things done. Or divorced. Let me know how it goes for you. I’m also really good with Post-Marital Advice.

Love and peace,
Dr. D-Money, The Hunny With Answers

Have a relationship issue that’s destroying your life? Email me at imtoofancyblog(at) gmail.com and I will respond in the next installment of Awesome Relationship Advice By Dr. D-Money, The Hunny With Answers. I look forward to hearing about your sorrows.

*i’m too fancy does not endorse hijacking in real life. We apologize if the word hijack offends you.

I decided to look through my draft posts to see what I’ve written but never posted. This was a post I wrote on 9/4/2013. Not sure why I ordered the list in this way. I think it’s because in 2013, i did not understand how numbered lists work.

Also, the title should really be “25 Reasons I Know I Don’t Like You” but I decided not to edit. If I did, I’d have 50 more reasons I know I don’t like you. Added years have a funny way of making you dislike more people, you know? You know.

If you’re also the type of person who doesn’t like humans who behave in an unsavory way, please leave a comment. Until then, enjoy.

The List

25) You flirted with my husband in front of me and then knowingly smirked at me.

24) You made fun of my weight.

23) There’s something about your face that just doesn’t suit my eyes.

22) The only content you post on Facebook is of your vacations.

21) You’re a humble brag and act as if the sun rises just so you can pirouette through the day.

20) I just don’t.

19) You don’t support the gays and their quest to marry.

18) You hurt animals.

17) You’re still talking about your wedding and it’s been more than two years.

16) You messed with my family.

15) You messed with my friends.

14) You skipped me in line by merging quietly.

13) You told me you don’t like my blog.

12) You got the parking spot I needed.

11) You pulled me over and gave me a ticket.

10) You don’t get me.

9) You’re lame.

8) You act like your life is perfect and you don’t have any mental health issues.

7) You have something I want and I don’t think you deserve it (Imma hater. And?)

6) You lie.

5) You’re too honest.

4) You ignored me when I said hello/sent you that email asking for a favor.

By now you know I’m addicted to sugar. It’s a real struggle because all I want is the sweet nectar of a Lindt classic milk chocolate with almonds bar every single day. I can’t say no and I can’t be taken anywhere with sweets, because I will eat them all. I even took candy from a child this past Halloween. Don’t worry, I knew this child and while I did not steal his delicious candy, I was wearing an intimidating adult mask.

1. Google “How to quit sugar”

Two anti-sugar articles plus one that tries to convince me that my detox is just a phase I’ll very quickly move on from is the perfect recipe for success.

I absorb the information and move on to step 2.

2. Make a do’s and don’ts food plan.

Will Eat: Fruits, I guess.

Won’t Eat: Anything that I crave.

3. Write a pep talk.

For when I feel like this experiment into being a healthy person is taking too much of my time.

Diana, you can do this. Your brain feels like a finger hosting a too-tight bandaid when you eat too much sugar. Stop making yourself feel like shit for the short high. JUST STOP IT, loser.

4. Write another pep talk.

To apologize for calling self a loser because that is a trigger that leads me straight into the arms of KitKatt, a gorgeous treat full of wafer goodness.

You are not a loser. Everyone falls off the lifestyle wagon. BECAUSE IT’S NOT ORGANIC OR NATURAL to be this perfect. Get back up there, champ! You can do it!

4. Develop a healthy relationship with that bland motherfucker, water.

Water is good for you. It’s refreshing. It’s full of wonderful healthy chemicals found naturally on Earth.

Water. Good. Drink. Now.

5. Refrain from saying things like “My water needs more chemicals.”

While 4-methylimidazole sounds like an amazing time, deep down inside I know it’s not.

6. Wonder why it’s preferred to be a refined person but not a refined person who smothers herself with refined sugar.

Do refined persons not indulge obsessively with refined sugars? Showoffs.

7. Think about the bad timing of this anti-sugar, anti-inflammatory lifestyle change.

The holidays are coming up! It’s rude not to eat at least five pastries, especially if the person baked them just for you. (Here’s looking at you master baker, Liz F.)

8. Realize that being an adult means sacrificing a good time for the greater good.

Being an adult sucks SO MUCH.

9. Read articles about how to spend the holidays NOT in a food coma.

Find said articles in every single lady magazine and blog.

10. DON’T EAT SUGARY JUNKFOOD

Quitting something means not doing it anymore. It really is that simple. Just don’t fucking eat it! Have the willpower to JUST. SAY. MAYBE NEXT TIME. When next time comes along, say the same thing. Repeat until you give in. And when you give in, refer to #4.

Of course there are more empathetic tips for people who are genuinely looking for support in their quest to quit sugar. This is not that post and for that I apologize.

But check back shortly to see how I’m doing without the sugar. I have taken baby steps by simply not buying the chocolate bar every day but hope to advance in my efforts by not buying it every other day either.

One day at a time, folks. It’s always about taking it one day at a time.

Hello, my name is Diana and I am addicted to sugar. I wasn’t always a sugar addict, or at least I never thought I was. I’ve always preferred salty over sweet so it never occurred to me that I might have a problem.

But I do have a problem. And that problem is that I can get addicted to anything that is addictive and then I can live in a fog and justify my bad habits by not realizing they are bad habits. The heroin addict knows he is an addict. Because it’s heroin. But the sugar addict who hides Juicy Fruit from her husband, The Anti-Sugar Crusader*, so that she can enjoy 30 seconds of eternal sugar bliss without judgement is just a regular person who hides food. It’s really hard to see that as a legitimate issue.

But wait, there’s more. It’s not just Juicy Fruit. Besides the gum, I have stuffed my face with chocolate bars, chocolate ice cream, halva, gummy bears, gummy rings, Never-Greek La Yogurt and chocolate-covered Oreo’s (or chocolate-covered cocaine if you know what’s good). I also take my sugar with coffee, which is a whole notha’ addiction.

Anywho, I realize now that I was indulging in sugar because I was stressed. And this is how I deal with stress: bad habits. Basically, my entire life is one giant bad habit. And so I embark on another journey of change. This time it will be more manageable because it involves me not doing something, which I’m really good at it.

Sugar IS inflammatory and I know this is true because the experts say so and also because my head feels like it’s throbbing like a finger that is hosting a too-tight bandaid.

Juicy Fruit gum consists mostly of sugar contained in a synthetic gum base. Other ingredients include corn syrup and dextrose as bulk agents and natural sweeteners, natural and artificial flavorings, glycerol and lecithin as softening agents, aspartame (NutraSweet) and acesulfame K as artificial sweeteners (in the sugar-free variety), Yellow Lake 5 as a coloring and BHT as a preservative.

GROSS, right? SAY NO TO JUICY FRUIT. Regular healthy humans shouldn’t be chewing this bullshit goodness garbage, much less someone with a compromised autoimmune system.

When Vinny critiques me in a way that suggests I should improve (as a wife, as a human being), I tend to immediately start hearing loud horns blaring. Sometimes it sounds like a helicopter is hovering 10ft above my head and I JUST CAN’T HEAR ANYTHING. Whatever brain space I have left is used to come up with a clever critique right back at him. Because that’s what a healthy conversations are all about, amiright?

No, WRONG. You are not right, Diana. Because chances are, he is just expressing his dire frustration with something I’ve done. Or in this case, haven’t done.

Recently I heard through the noise and I actually understood a critique that he’s apparently been telling me for years. Allegedly, I am messy and dirty and just leave things places and don’t put them away and even when I do put them away I do so with so little love and care that I might as well have not touched it at all. (Aha!, my strategy has been uncovered.)

And by allegedly I mean it’s all true. Therefore, I have made efforts to change.

Here, I bestow upon you my cleaning diary.

I see an item out-of-place.

I look at it. Is it really out of place? Why does Vinny get to decide what is out of place. Maybe this is where this item is supposed to be right at this moment in time.

I walk away.

No wait! That is a load of chocolate-covered nonsense. It must be moved to the proper location.

I try to send it to it’s place with an old trick of mine, telekinesis.

Nothing happens.

I remember that I don’t have telekinses skills anymore. Damn lightening.

I send a signal to my brain to make me move the item to the proper location.

My brain doesn’t respond. It is confused. It doesn’t understand why this isn’t the items place. It can be if I want it to be.

Shut the FUCK UP, Diana’s Brain. Just shut up. This is a process of change.

I send a signal to the agreeable side of my brain to move my legs towards the item.

My legs move. Success! Step one done.

I send a signal to my brain to move my hands and pick up the item.

I send another signal to my brain to place the item in it’s “rightful” place.

I take my magazines, books, iPad, laptop and bring it to my office.

I come back.

I take my dirty socks, his dirty socks, my sweatshirt, and my bra and bring it to the bedroom. I sort the dirty stuff into the appropriate places, i.e. the hamper.

I come back.

I sit on the couch to Facebook and forget what I was doing.

I remember what I’m doing and continue cleaning.

An hour has passed.

I take the plates and cups and bring them to the kitchen. I put them in the sink because apparently that is where dirty dishes belong.

My brain is on fire! Literally. Being neat hurts, but at least I feel accomplished.

Eight hours later, the living room is neat.

But not clean. Apparently this deal requires me to sweep and Swiffer, too. I almost forgot. Almost

The brain is confused. It thinks it’s snack time.

Maybe I’ll get to sweeping and swiffering tomorrow. Or maybe today, since I don’t want to fight. I weigh my options. To my customized broom I go.

I sweep and swiffer. I do my best and that’s the story I’m sticking with.

I’m done!

Next time I vow to clean better. Next time I will not ADD and will just do it. Next time I will hire a cleaning lady and take all the credit. Mrs. Doubtfire style.

Change requires time, effort and dedication and that is probably why so many people are stuck sucking at life. But not I! I will be different. I will become neat. I will.

This is a new warning box that was added to my WordPress toolbar. My warning is that I will use this box to write all sorts of non-warnings.

This is a disclaimer box. I disclaim that I will write non-warnings on random posts.

Are my boxes obnoxious? I wish there was a survey options so you can answer this question.

Sorry for the clickbait title. I did it because I didn’t want to give the keyword away. I wanted you to click the post and actually read it. Mostly I just wanted you to help my Google Analytics appear more popular. I’m SO not sorry.

Checking my Google Analytics is a fun yet depressing activity. When I share a post on Facebook, many people read. When I don’t, not so many people read. I suppose I am just waiting for that one viral post to take i’m too fancy to the next level: INFAMY.

But I regress. Without further ado, the keyword (phrases are considered keywords in Google) is….can cocaine cause optic neuritis.

I suppose it’s too much to ask for a cocaine user to use a question mark when asking a question but I forgive. I’m more interested that someone actually wondered if cocaine use can cause your optic nerve to malfunction. Have I cocained incorrectly, I wonder?

Just joshing! If MS taught me anything, it’s that the body is one sneaky motherfucker. And it also taught me that nobody knows anything about MS. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. While it’s unacceptable to say “I don’t know” in a business setting, it’s totally acceptable to say this as a medical professional. Because when you say “I don’t know,” your malpractice insurance goes down. If you don’t know, you can’t be held accountable. DUH.

Anywho, those lucky searchers landed on the educational post, True Life: My Optic Nerve Ran Away. I hope they found some solace and relief that cocaine does NOT cause optic neuritis. Not a doctor but I’m sure it doesn’t make it better so put that Parliament down RIGHT NOW.

You know what does cause optic neuritis? I don’t know. Neither does my neurologist or any other human being on the face of this earth. We know Mars has water and who killed JFK but optic neuritis – nahhhh. Let’s just blame it on a confused and stupid immune system.

You’re fired, bro.

PS: My right eye has never fully recovered from optic nueritis. A darkness looms when I close my left eye and try to see with my right. It’s cool because it doesn’t affect me in any way besides being a boring conversation starter with another MSer. WINNING.

They are probably spoiled as fuck. They are probably not good enough for lemonade. They are probably not even good enough to be used as weapon to throw at your husbands.

Some coffee shops don’t approve of you speaking on your phone. But what is the difference between my phone call and the loud conversations people have with no respect for others? What about mothers with squealing babies? These things are also desruptive. If I can’t conduct a business call while sipping on overpriced coffee, there should be a SHUT THE FUCK UP NO MATTER WHO YOU ARE rule at coffee shops.

If you are a feminist, you believe in the equal rights for women AND men. So why is there no outrage that some pap got a photo of Justin Bieber’s wanker? Just because he is a guy? That is messed up. If we want equality for the sexes, a nude photo of Justin should inspire the same outrage as a nude photo of Jennifer Lawrence. For the record, I look at ALL naked celeb pictures. Because EQUALITY. :::air fist pump:::

The only thing I miss about high school is my attention span. I was able to sit and write for hours and hours and hours. Maybe because I didn’t have many friends? No, it’s because I had PASSION. Now I need a pill for passion but even then it’s not that effective. RIP passion brain cells. I miss you so much. I wish you were still around so we could cuddle and create masterpieces together.

I once told my fathers friend that I was writing a book. I was probably 18 when I said that and now whenever he sees me, he asks about my book. Last time he saw me, he mentioned that he’d looked for my book at the store. He thought I had written it long ago. This is the quickest way to a brief period of depression – being reminded of a dream not yet accomplished.

I would like to write a book but please refer to #4.

I’m a big believer that if you want something badly enough, you will make it happen. But whatever, refer to #4 again. I lost my passion brain cells and I don’t know how to get them back.

Working out would probably help. Working out actually makes me super excited, which is odd since i loathe organized physical activity. I guess that is science working my body without permission.

Another quick way to get depressed is to know you have the power to change but you’re too lazy to do it.

I was stable before my energy wrote this post. Now I want to go hug myself. Maybe even say a few kind words to myself. Like, it’s okay you haven’t worked hard on your dream. Don’t cry. No, really. Please stop crying.

I’m not really crying.

Yet. My tears have a mind of their own. They do as they please, like a cat.

Hope you’re enjoying your day off celebrating a sadistic rapist murderer who didn’t even discover America. And I’m not talking about the natives who lived here first. That bro landed on the Bahamas and never even stepped a murderous foot on North “American” soil. Bro thought he was in Asia till the day he died in shame and poverty. Rapist bro most likely brought syphilis to Europe. Bro doesn’t deserve a national holiday, although his way really is the American way.

Today I was approved to be a part of the Free Drug program with Biogen. This means I will be getting my Tecfidera for FREE. Totally free. I’m glad the trend of getting my drugs for free continues.

Here is a tidbit of how that unicorn magic happened.

Linda: Diana, you’ve been approved to be a part of the Free Drug program. I’m going to read you a disclaimer to make sure you understand the rules.

Me: Sure.

Linda: Yadda, Yadda, Yadda, free drugs until September 2016.

Me: So, free?

Linda: Yes, free.

Me: As in zero dollars?

Linda: Yes. Free.

Me: I was just making sure we had the same definition of free. Thank you, Linda.

Linda: You’re welcome. Just let us know if anything changes.

Me: Nothing will change. Because FREE DRUGS!

Linda: Okay, goodbye ma’am.

Usually when you get approved for anything free it means you’re too po’ to afford it. And usually I would be ashamed to admit I am too po’ to afford it but not this time. Tecfidera costs $56K a year if you pay out of pocket. That is $4,666.66667 a month.

I don’t think it’s a coincidence there are so many 6’s in that number because that shit is devilish.

But it’s fine since I also know how expensive it is to bring a drug to market. Very expensive. Science isn’t cheap, my friends.

Now that I don’t have to worry about spending my hard earned money on my health, I will stress instead about the side effects of my free drugs. Flushing and gastrointestinal issues are the flavors of Tecfidera and this means I may be shitting my pants for two weeks while my body adjusts. My nether region will be out-of-service and I guess I’ll have to find another way… I always find another way.

Can you believe it’s been three magical years since Zohra banged two rocks together and pronounced us husband and wife? I can’t. It feels like time zoomed past us like a car whose doors open up.

This year, I decided to go HAM with my PDA because…why not?

I love you so much. SO MUCH. That is why I am sometimes crazy and chase you around the apartment with a knife. My passion game is strong and directly related to my love for you. Bill Burr was right about that.

My love and passion is so strong that if the zombie apocalypse were to come to New York City and we were being chased by flesh eating monsters and they were closing in on us, I’d push you towards them so they can bite you first. Then I would lay down and let you have your zombie way with me. This applies to werewolves and vampires as well although I prefer we both become vampires so we can literally be together forever. Fun, right?! Right! 🙂

My love and passion is so strong that if we lived in a dystopian land and we were separated into quads based on talent, I would learn how not to use my fingers for basic additions like 8 + 5. That is easy and why I am able to do it now. So we can be roomies in the math quad.

My love and passion is so strong that if you decided to give up on Brooklyn for the “greener” pastures of New Jersey, I would fight with you about it until I had no more energy to fight and I’d give up my “beautiful” Brooklyn and I’d move with you.

Because it’s no fun being here if you are over there.

My love and passion is so strong that I will learn how to dust for you so that you come home and there is not a dust particle in sight. Dusting is so easy, you say. But it’s not so recognize my love and passion also means an exorbitant amount of effort to training my eyes to become microscopes so that I can see the dust and properly remove it. Fuck off, hussy dust! You are toast.

My love and passion is so strong that I will remove all toast crumbs from the couch before you sit down. It’s only fair.

There’s more but none of it is appropriate for public consumption but here’s a hint: PG-13 cuddle later?

I love you, amore! You inspire me and I’m proud to be your wife. Cheers to three years and many many more. Because they say marriage is till death do us part but I promise, I have no real intentions of killing you. I hope you feel the same.